I started to write this on holiday in Tenerife, in fact it was just yesterday. It’s a way of dealing with having nothing much to do, but more importantly it’s allowing me to vent. To stay sane.
Be warned. I’m a moaning miserable git.
Sunday July 3rd 2011 – 06:03
Rather than relax and rest it seems that the holiday routine sees the day start at 6am with the morning ritual of claiming your daily sunbeds.
Still dark as midnight I’m the first one here. I’ve been obsessively watching the clock since about 5am.
06:50 – I’m back by the pool with more towels. That’s another two beds in the bank. Last nights forward planning is paying off.
More beds have now been claimed and one or two people pass every 5 minutes or so. I feel a bit less of a dick now. Having said this, i am still the only one sat out here waiting.
Everyone else is still in bed. Kids asleep. No place for me to sit awake in the room.
Hungry now. Something is moving over there, best take a look. Nice. Cockroach, I would have preferred a mouse.
Lots more people around now marking their territory. Topless woman from yesterday is claiming eight!
More women than blokes claiming beds at the moment, I wonder why.
Boobs-out-babe (I use the term “babe” sarcastically) is one of the “two towels / one sunbed club. Bitch.
7:30 – a pattern is emerging. It’s starting to look like the procedure for ensuring none of the other bastards (i mean holiday makers) nicks your sun shade is to make sure you put it up,like planting your flag. Some of these shits would probably stick one up in the pool – like Russia, if they thought they would get away with it.
07:51 – tattoed-chav-man is making his second run to the “loud” pool. This time taking his inflatables. He even walks like trouble.
The welsh have arrived, three teenage girls, off to get their space. I know they are Welsh, they have to be. They are outside in their pyjamas.
I feel like a right tit sitting here with the sunshade up. It’s cloudy and looking like rain.
Breakfast has started. Come on you lot!!
20:28 – that’s three times doing battle with the chavs now. I refuse to let them win. They definitely have the weight advantage over me but I am more agile and able to duck in and out of their colossal shadows to swipe a chicken leg here, some rice there, all before their fat-ham-fists come crashing down on the feeding time buffet troughs.
20:45 – not really enjoying being slowly sweated like a vegetable. It’s mini disco time, the music sucks, the kids aren’t getting in to the “entertainment” and many reluctant grown-ups are busy making prats of themselves all in the name of pleasing snotty-nosed-little-Jhonny who will be instantly bored the minute that her-in-the-crap-witches outfit buggers off stage to get cleaned up and get out on the piss.
themiseryguts 